Is death the answer to a second chance?
by Sirius McDhai
Summary: If you had a chance to make things right that had terribly wrong, would u take it? SUSPENSE/HORROR thriller. Please R&R, its a THE CROW/BRIMSTONE CROSSOVER


Death and a second chance By: The Big Daddy HD Summary: What lengths would a person take to make things right? (CROSSOVER between The Crow and the TV show, Brimstone) Disclaimer: These ideas ain't mine, but the people are, minus- using a name or two. Have you ever wanted a chance to try to change an event that had gone terribly wrong? But if you could, at what costs would you take to make them right? I have gotten that chance. A long time ago, a friend of mine used to ask me, "Have you ever danced with the devil, under the pale moonlight?" I always had thought that he was a crazy son of a bitch for asking that, but I never thought I would truly understand the meaning behind it. You see, David was a, (how do I say), a very interesting individual. We had worked along side of each other for several years at the Detroit Police Department in Michigan. We both basically had the same backgrounds. Each of us had graduated college with masters' degrees in criminal justice, both had a wife, and we both had kids. He had two of them, ages 6 and 8, both girls. Myself, I had the cutest little five year old any parent could want. She loved that damn pooh bear more than anybody or any kid that I have ever known. She stood about 3 foot tall, and weighed about fifty pounds, always wore her hair in pigtails and always drug around a pooh bear, bigger than she was.. Anyway, I am getting off track here. He asked me that stupid phrase every damn time we had went on a case. Knowing him he probably always had a method to his madness, and even to this day, I still haven't figured it out. It took all that has happened to fully understand what he meant by it. But I think I have understood all to well. My name is Randall Davidson and I have one hell of a story to tell you. As you can tell, I had pretty much a normal life. I had an every day job, that I loved, a best friend for a partner, and the most beautiful and loving wife, a man could ever dream to have. I had a gorgeous two-story home, in a quaint little subdivision in Detroit, with a small flower garden and a back yard pool. I mean, I was living the life that I had always wanted, and I never thought it could be taken from me in an instant. But alas, that goddamned Murphy's Law went into effect. As soon as you say something like that and think everything is going great, it just fucks up. I still remember the day that it all started. It's like it was burned in my mind forever, no pun intended. I will explain that later. On November 26th 2000, all hell had broken loose. It all started like a normal day, I had just finished up paper work on a perpetrator by the name of Edward Pablo, also known on the streets as, Jesus Diablo. This had to be the most unusual guy that we had busted. He stood at 6'1; he had jet-black hair down to his waist, pitch black eyes, pale skin, and a goddamn pentagram tattooed on his forehead. We got him on 6 counts of arson, 8 counts of animal abuse, 6 counts of rape, 4 counts of possession of narcotics, and 14 counts of 2nd degree murder. Like I said, I had just finished up the paperwork and I decided to go home. It was around 11pm, when I pulled into the driveway. As I was walking up to the front porch and I noticed that the damn light was out. Well, I put the key into the lock and the door slowly swung open. "What the hell?" I asked myself. Something just felt terribly wrong, so I reached for my .45 and put a new clip in. I walked into the living room, and everything seemed normal, and in its place. I had a gut feeling I should check on my wife and child. I checked the living room, dining room, and kitchen, again, everything was ok, and nothing was missing. As I walked towards Angel's bedroom, I could have swore that I had heard soft and muffled screams. I began to pray, "Dear Lord, please let my angel be ok". I walked slowly to the door, and strangely enough, the door was almost closed, just a little bit of light was showing. "We never, close the door, never!" I said. 

I peeked into the crack, and I saw her little pooh bear night light shining as bright as ever. I slowly began to open her door up and there she was, tucked in tightly, all snuggled tightly, in her pooh bear and tigger bed sheets. I smiled softly thinking everything was just normal like it was supposed to be. I walked softly towards her bed, and knelt down right next to where her head met the pillow. I made sure to put down the piece before I knelt down beside her. Oddly enough, there she was with her eyes wide open. "Now, what are you doing up, you little devil, it is way past your bedtime.", I had said softly. I didn't get anything in response, not a smile, not a giggle, nor even the usual hide and go seek game we played before I tucked her into to bed. My heart started to beat rapidly, "Oh my God, my baby, Please just be ignoring me, please be trying to scare the hell out of me", I thought to myself. I still to this day, can't figure out why the fuck, I had the urge to uncover her. I was just so damn compelled and to this day, I wish I didn't because, what I had saw is forever burnt into my mind. I slowly peeled away the covers and I damned near screamed in horror. There she was lying totally nude, only covered in blood. Her Goddamn stomach cut open, like a side of beef at a butcher shop. I was in total shock to seeing that grotesque sight, but I could of swore that I was going to have a heart attack, when I seen that she had a pentagram carved into her chest in between her nipples. A tear ran down my cheek as I slowly covered her back up and closed her eyes. I bent down and picked up my .45 and slowly walked out the door. I now only expected the worse, as I decided, to go check on my wife Lindsay. It seemed like forever as I walked down to our master bedroom. Each step closer that I took, my stomach got tighter and tighter, by barbed wire. I kept having mental flashes of seeing her in the same situation as Angel. I finally made it to our bedroom, and the door was closed. I sighed in relief, because we always kept the door closed. I put my hand on the door knob, getting ready to open it, when I felt something wet and slightly warm on it. My heart stopped as I raised my hand to see what it was. It was blood. Goddamn blood and it was probably Angel's. A warm tear slowly worked it's way down my cheek to my lips. I began to turned the handle, when I noticed it was locked. And of course, the fucking door, could only be locked from the inside. I basically said fuck it, and I kicked the door open. Instead of flying open like it was supposed to, it didn't even budge. I did it again, with a lot more force, and instead the door just came right off it's hinges. The room was lit up by, it seemed like, thousands of candles. I yelled out, "Lindsay, baby, Where are you, Please tell me you are in here". I didn't get a damn response. I walked over to the bed and instead of finding my baby, I found a huge puddle of blood. "GODDAMN IT", I yelled out. I thought I head a rustling in the master bathroom, I ran in there, only to find the bathroom window wide open. Bloody hand prints were on the ledge. I peered out the window, as I looked out on the street, a white van peeled out of the drive way. In a animalistic rage, I started to fire shots at the van. It was so fucking careless, but I really didn't give a good goddamn. I said the hell with this and ran out to the car. I began to radio for a forensics team, when I noticed headlights in the rearview mirror of my car. I walked out into the middle of the road, as it pulled up at the front of my house. My gun was aimed and cocked, and I was ready to fire. 

"Don't you fucking get out of the car, I will shoot, I swear to all that is holy, that I will fucking shoot", I screamed. "Easy Chief, don't go section eight on me", a voice said. I had thought I recognized it, but at the time, I didn't, hell would you? "Put both your hands out of window, and slowly open the car door.", I commanded. A tall figure walked out of the car slowly, he had to be like 5'5 or 5'6. "Get the fuck on the ground, put your hands behind your head, and don't you fucking move", I commanded yet again. I walked over slowly to the individual, and I didn't recognize who it was until I came a few inches of him. It was David, my partner. "What the fuck do you think your doing, scaring the shit out of me? Goddamn, get up off the fucking ground, Jesus Christ", I said in a shaky voice. David got up, and brushed himself off. "What the hell happened here", he asked. I slowly began to cry and I really tried to hide it. I told him that my wife was gone, and my little girl was murdered in cold blood. "I have no idea why the hell someone would do something like this", I said. David handed me a cigarette, and told me to sit down. He called for a forensics team as I began to light up. 

An hour later, the team arrived. I was sitting on the side of the street and the head forensic scienistist, was talking to David. I have a feeling he told him everything that had gone wrong. Dr. Williams, the forensic scienctist, had walked up to me and in a deep voice expressed his sympathy for my situation. He continued on to say, "its a damn shame, such a beautiful family,". And then in a whisper, I had head him say, "what a lousy husband and hell, hes a shitty detective, he should of protected them better". I walked slowly over to him and said "excuse me, Dr. Williams". I went after him with a right hook and he went flat on his ass. David ran over to me, and held me in a full nelson. "No Davidson!, You don't want to do this, not here, your losing your mind", he said. He walked me towards his car, told me to get in. He drove us to Dunkin' Doughnuts and bought me a round of coffee. " Coffee, Hell what I need is a goddamn bottle of Jack Daniels", I thought to myself. 


End file.
